Story:Kings of Strife/Part 23
Part Twenty-Three There was no city in between Phenicks and Shorekeep, at least on the southern coast of Shorica, but more than a few small fishing villages and ports existed on the coastline. At the very first one of these, only half a day’s travel away from the clearing in the Shorican Wilds that the group of exiles had rested in for their first night of liberation, Vainia paid for a small and fast ship to take her down to Grainis, the capital of Mortis, just across the Queen’s Gulf to the south. At her command, the leading officers of Fifth Brine continued to herd her army of thousands towards Shorekeep, and Gin Taoris left them behind as well. After only two hours of running at top speed, he was miles ahead of the throng, and would arrive at Shorekeep before the sunrise – if he was at full strength, at least. But as much as Taoris did not want to admit it, he was not at full strength. After two hours he felt the familiar creak in his bones that usually came from days of constant activity, and he slowed to a walk immediately, lest he shatter his bones beneath him. The weakness was new and embarrassing to him, but he took temporary solace in the fact that it had only occurred outside of Vainia’s eyesight. Shortly after waking up that morning, Taoris had purged the nostalgic events of the previous day from his mind completely. Nothing good came from dwelling on moments of emotion or weakness; all that mattered, all that was worth remembering, was the loyalty he now felt for Vainia, and the vows he had made to himself and to her. It was impossible for Taoris to feel pain, but if he could he would have likely passed out from the strenuous activity he put his body through even as he hastily walked through the Shorican countryside. Not for the first time that day, he blinked and felt, just for a moment, the sensations that had overloaded his brain during the destruction of Phenicks. The only other time he felt pain like that – the only other time he felt pain at all in almost twenty years – was when he fought Silverius and his woman friend, the one with glowing golden eyes and ephemeral weapons. Those dream-like blades had pierced Taoris’ skin, and he had felt actual pain. Silverius. Taoris frowned and spit onto the short grasses around his worn combat boots. His last fight with the mercenary had been only two weeks ago at most, but he still remembered the battle as vividly as if it had just happened an hour ago. The fight itself had been unremarkable at best; the mercenary still had a whole lifetime of battle experience to work through before he could hope to touch Taoris in terms of speed or power. He had the potential to overcome him of course, as well as extraordinary reflexes, but that was not enough to best the Crimson Death. At least, that was what Taoris thought. Then he saw the mercenary rise from the dead, and everything changed. Taoris shook such thoughts from his head and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. Not focusing his body to its limits left him with more time to think of extraneous matters than he would have liked. ‘I am being a fool. All that matters is my mission, and Queen Vainia.’ That thought brought him some solace, at least; having a definite goal always did wonders for his concentration, and a focused Crimson Death was an invincible Crimson Death. More invincible than usual, at least. He walked for another hour, silent in mind and body, moving relatively slowly so that he did not hamper his body’s regeneration. Normally he would have been at full health from lethal wounds within a few hours, but he had never been injured as heavily as he was at Phenicks – and something told Taoris that the light was more powerful than any other weapon he had ever encountered. Something about it seemed to slow his regeneration down, considering a full day had now passed since the light scattered him to pieces and he was still not completely healthy. At the end of this hour of walking, Taoris came upon a single cabin in the middle of a coastal plain, bordered on the north by thick tufts of wild forest and to the south by the ocean. The salty smell of the sea and the sand near it constantly wafted by Taoris’ nose, tickling it, but he was not nostalgic for the sounds of the sea at all, nor did he ever look to it and see anything but a stain on the planet, one too incompetent to even take his life. Drowning himself had been the first way Taoris attempted suicide, almost twenty years ago, soon after he gained his condition of immortality. He remembered now that it had not worked. ‘Again with the sentiments. Have I not learned by now that the past is meaningless?’ Taoris closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as he walked towards the lonely cabin. ‘Perhaps I will rest here, and end the rest of my journey with haste. My speed will make up for this detour.’ Only another moment passed before Taoris confirmed this plan with himself. The shack, barely larger than a single room with an outhouse dug out to its side, was of faded wooden brown. It stood defiantly in the middle of the plain, and it appeared to have been built in haste, likely some long years ago. Still, uncompromising, the small cabin clung to life, tempered and tenacious. As Taoris entered the cabin, hearing the creaking of the wood in reaction to the intensifying coastal winds, he could not help but think that perhaps the cabin had stood too long, and it yearned to fall. Inside the cabin was populated only by decaying wooden furniture. The innards of the cabin were somehow older than the structure itself, which was larger in the inside than it outwardly appeared to be. A chair of fading wood sat near a tall table covered with dust. Once, the furnishings might have been magnificent, but now they were only sad, dark reminders of weariness. Taoris walked to the table, a long finger trailing on its old wood, drawing up dust beneath his nails. He looked down at the table, frowning, and the shadows of the cabin’s innards covered his face for just a moment. With his other hand he pushed his red hair back from his face, and he noticed that it had regenerated to its long length by now – long, curling and wild, and flowing down to the small of his back. No matter how many times he had tried to cut it, his hair always grew and stagnated at this length, so in the end he stopped trying to stop it. His senses suddenly returned to him, and Taoris looked over to the doorway of the cabin in alarm. A figure stood there, stationary in the doorway and obscured by the light behind him. Taoris had allowed melancholy and weakness to dull his senses, but now that he had sensed an enemy, he forced himself back to his impossibly quick reflexes and ability once again. He exploded forward, half tackling and half pouncing, and felt the thrill of attacking run through his veins. That familiar feeling, the burning of hatred and adrenaline within his heart; it bloomed in that fraction of an instant and brought a vicious, beastly smile to Taoris’ face. The intruder sensed Taoris’ movement and, surprisingly, reacted almost as fast as the Crimson Death had. The skinny figure jumped forward and to the side, allowing the sun behind him to instantly brighten the room and blind Taoris for just an instant. Taoris’ smile widened as this occurred and his eyes involuntarily clenched shut; had he been an ordinary warrior, this simple maneuver would have left him open and likely defeated him. This enemy was no amateur. But the Crimson Death was no ordinary warrior, either. Taoris anticipated the dodge of the intruder even as he was blinded; with one thick leg, Taoris kicked the ground, stopping his pounce for just a moment. Then, with his other leg, Taoris kicked out to the side blindly. The intruder had jumped to this very spot in foiling Taoris’ pounce, and the kick hit him right in his chest. Taoris landed on his feet and the intruder was thrown across the cabin, smashing into and splintering the fragile wall of the cabin. The moment of blindness passed, and Taoris opened his eyes as he stood to his full height. Looking down onto his enemy, his smile faded as he saw that the intruder was just a boy. Said boy was tall and thin as a knife, and he wore the gray uniform of a Zeta Academy student, though his fit a little slimmer than most. Most notably the boy wore a white and horned mask over his face, completely obscuring his facial features and his identity. “An assassin, hm?” Taoris crossed his arms and looked over the recovering boy. “No normal student could have moved that fast, or gotten so close to me without me noticing.” The boy was reeling and clutching at his chest, and with good reason; though Taoris had no weapons on him and his body was not at full strength, that was not to say Taoris was weak relative to a normal man. If anything, he was still orders of magnitude above the skillset of most people in terms of ability and reflexes. “You think so?” The boy – for the voice behind the mask was definitely that of a boy’s, though he sounded young – stood, leaning back on the shaking wall of the cabin and grabbing on his blue undershirt with a gloved hand. Now that the enemy stood, Taoris could see that two medium-length and thin swords were strapped to his waist. “Maybe I am.” “No, I don’t think so… Not for me, at least. No one has been foolish or wasteful enough to hire an assassin on me in fifteen years.” The Crimson Death narrowed his eyes. “The person you’re looking for isn’t here.” “Fifteen years, huh…? Hah. You think you know who I’m looking for?” “If you’re looking for Death, you found him.” The boy’s posture lowered, and Taoris could almost see his smirk despite the flat white and black of the mask, with its glaring and enshadowed eyeholes. “I suppose I can’t afford to hold back against you, then.” He let both gloved hands rest on the black hilts of his swords and slowly unsheathed them, letting the black blades ring as he summoned them both. As he did so, the boy’s mask kept silent, unmoving eye contact with Taoris, not even once the blades were fully unleashed and brandished in the boy’s hands. “You’re not going to move?” the masked boy asked, his posture lowered ever so slightly once again. “There’s no need. Two blades or twenty, I’ll crush you all the same.” “…” The two stared each other down for a moment before the boy threw one of his blades to Taoris. The Crimson Death did not flinch at all – he could tell from the way that the boy tossed the weapon that this was not an attack – and instead he easily grabbed the blade in the air, swiping it down to the ground in one smooth action. He looked down at the sword with nonchalant and focused blue eyes, quickly acclimating himself to the thin and light weapon. “You are the most foolish assassin I’ve ever met, I think,” Taoris chuckled. “Do you know who I am? I fight with two swords, usually.” “Forgive me, but I only had time to grab these two. It’s fairer like this, anyway, no?” The boy lowered his stance a final time, his sword held to the side and his free arm cautiously raised in front of his chest. “Come. I want to see the wrath of the Crimson Death with my own two eyes.” Taoris smiled. ‘He doesn’t understand…’ With even more speed than before, Taoris leaped into the air like a red blur, both hands held over the hilt of his thin sword as he raised it above his head to cleave. The masked boy looked up at the Crimson Death and instinctively raised his blade horizontally, as if to block Taoris’ sword. Taoris’ smile intensified, and in that split second, with his wild red hair flowing behind him, he felt like a lion pouncing on a harmless rabbit. The boy realized his mistake instantly, and he retreated to his side a mere instant before Taoris’ sword crushed his own. That evasion saved the boy’s life. Taoris’ blade cut through the air and the wood both, and the force of his swing blew the wall apart as if it were made of paper. Shards of wood flew everywhere, and the cabin noticeably shook from the huge impact, but still, tenaciously, it stood. After his attack went through the wall, Taoris stood at full height and looked down to the wall ahead of him. It would not sustain another attack of such intensity; neither would his sword. He could sense the boy behind him, standing apprehensively and moving slowly and with confidence, like a snake. “I didn’t expect you to dodge that,” Taoris growled without moving. “Your instincts saved your life. You have potential, at least.” “As if,” the boy spat, bluffing. His play at bravado was transparent, but still irritating. “A blind infant could have dodged that. This is the Crimson Death I’ve heard so much about?” The infamous man in person did all he could to keep himself from smiling, and not responding was much easier. ‘This is an amusing enemy, at least. He’s somewhat right… I’m moving much slower than usual.’ Now he turned, slowly and keeping his eyes narrowed. ‘Enough of this weakness.’ The Zeta boy lowered his center of gravity instantly in reaction, but kept his tentative position still. “I’m going to end this in the next strike,” Taoris said with all the confidence of a man who never lied. He flexed the fingers of both hands as they formed a familiar, comfortable grip over the slim black hilt of his borrowed sword. Before Taoris could make another move, the assassin struck. Taoris’ comparison of the boy to a snake reinforced now that he saw the offensive capabilities of his enemy. The boy lept in and out of Taoris’ range with incredible speed, feinting and stabbing forward with his sword with impressive speed. His power was lackluster – Taoris lazily parried every attack with just one hand – but had Taoris slipped up at any point, he would have been overwhelmed by the sheer number of attacks. Even with one sword and a weak body, though, not a single attack made it through Taoris’ defenses. The boy hopped backwards acrobatically, ducking under a backhand from Taoris in his only moment of offensive weakness. The boy’s mask did not budge despite his quick, agile movements, and his breathing seemed barely bothered by the expenditure of energy. “Pitiful,” the assassin murmured, “You offer absolutely no challenge. Your every move is slow and predictable!” Now, Taoris frowned, all amusement gone. “That’s enough of the bluffing, kid. You haven’t yet touched a hair on my head. You don’t see how outmatched you are?” “Outmatched?! Hahaha!” The boy stepped back and laughed, his back landing on the wobbling wall of the cabin. His mask glared eternally, but he seemed genuinely amused. “If anything, I can move up my plans exponentially now that I know you aren’t a threat. Now, get down on your knees and pray, Crimson Death!” “I won’t repeat myself,” Taoris said, agitated, before he appeared next to the boy in the blink of an eye. This time he moved many times faster than he had before, and his sudden burst of speed seemed to catch the boy truly off guard for the first time. With his free hand, Taoris swung a quick punch right at the boy’s face, crashing through the horn and right into the nose of the hard disguise. A loud crack cut through the cabin before the force of the punch sent the assassin flying right into and through the cabin. Though it had stood defiant and proud before, now the wooden cabin had no choice but to collapse as the Zeta student was thrown out from within it, and with a wounded cry, the shack fell to pieces with Taoris inside. When the dust and debris settled, Taoris still stood, though his clothing was covered in dust and wood chips. He coughed once and opened his eyes to look upon his enemy. The Zeta assassin lay sprawled out on the ground, almost buried by a thin layer of debris and floating dust. “So you saw that coming, did you?” Roused by Taoris’ taunt, the boy groaned and stood, his movements slow and pained. It was clear that the punch had dazed him, but truthfully Taoris was surprised that the boy had survived a punch that should have shattered his skull. ‘That mask is made of something special,’ he reasoned, ‘or the boy anticipated my attack and moved backwards just in time, lessening the impact just enough to survive.’ He had a feeling the latter was what had really happened. The boy stood hunched over, one hand still gripping his dirt-covered sword and the other holding his damaged mask in place. The horn that was hit had shattered completely, leaving behind only a short stub, and the face was completely covered in spiderweb cracks. Some small shards of whatever material behind the mask had fallen out, and Taoris could see the assassin clearly trying to keep his face hidden. Taoris also saw an opening in that moment. He burst forward once more, moving at three times the incredible speed the boy had boasted and even faster than his lunge and punch had been moments before. This time Taoris appeared to the side of the Zeta student, almost behind him, and he reached down with his free hand, ripping off one of the hard sword sheaths strapped to the boy’s waist. Once again the Zeta student had anticipated Taoris’ speed, and he had instinctively raised his arm once again to block whatever was coming his way. It was only after Taoris had effortlessly ripped the sheath from behind him – and held two weapons in his hand once again – that the Zeta student realized he was many steps behind, and would not be fast enough to avoid an attack again. Taoris dug his heels in the ground and reversed the movement of his left arm, swinging the sheath that he had just stolen in a cul-de-sac of momentum. The boy’s arm was raised to block an attack, and Taoris let him block one indeed. He slammed the hard wooden sheath right onto the boy’s forearm; a loud crack cut through the atmosphere, producing perhaps more noise than the cabin had wheezed as it fell to pieces. The sheath outright exploded in contact with the boy’s arm, and the bones of his forearm almost bent backwards from the attack. Though his arm was just inches away from snapping in half, it was definitely broken, and the splintering of his bones resounded just as loud as the broken sheath. Now the boy reeled, an organic and wet scream bubbling forth from his shattered mask, and Taoris swung his free sword right at the assassin’s chest. This would be more powerful and damaging than the blunt weapon had been, and if he didn’t cut the boy in two, Taoris knew this strike would crush his ribs, lungs, and esophagus. The enemy was reeling and in agony; even if he could see this attack coming, he would never be able to do anything about it. Time slowed for Taoris in that familiar and fulfilling state, and a wicked smile crept across his face as his blade inched closer and closer to the Zeta student’s small chest, mere centimeters away from destruction… But his blade did not connect. The Crimson Death did not believe his eyes. Less than an instant had remained before he would have cut the boy down; in such a situation, Taoris was not sure that he would be able to dodge the blade himself. But dodge the boy did, somehow kicking backwards from the attack and sending himself faltering backwards. Not only did the boy move backwards, he found enough power within himself to hurl his blade right at Taoris, and the sleek black sword impaled the Crimson Death right in between his lungs. ‘I said I would kill you, and I meant it,’ Taoris whispered silently, his face contorted in a frustrated glare. “You will not escape me!” he roared, before moving forward with even more power. Pure hatred and bloodlust coagulated around Taoris like a tangible aura. His two-prong attack should have sent him reeling forward, unable to move in quick reaction, but the sword that embedded itself in his chest was thrown with enough power to send him backwards, effectively resetting his momentum. Now, Taoris forced his blood and power into his legs before bursting forward with enough force to send dust, debris, and grass exploding out from behind him. The boy had fled admirably, but Taoris had the advantage in stride length, power, and weapon range; he was upon the boy again in less than an instant, bearing down on his prey with beastly teeth and a swinging obsidian blade. Yet once again he was too slow. Now Taoris was sure of it – somehow the boy was able to accurately predict and act on his movements with inhuman accuracy and precision. No one should have been able to dodge Taoris’ rage-fueled pounce, yet the boy ducked; the Zeta student reached into his blazer with his free hand and pulled forth two knives; the assassin threw them right into Taoris’ neck, both of them hitting their mark swiftly; the enemy instantly rolled backwards after his attack, just barely escaping Taoris’ range and anger. The attack was finished as soon as it started, and Taoris slashed away at empty air. He landed on his feet and skid on the hard ground thanks to the force of his movement, and with a roar Taoris swung his sword in the air, righting himself and preparing to move forward once again. He faltered, though, and stood where he was, with three blades poking out from his body and another in his hand. He looked down, shakily, before looking back up at the assassin with wide, confused eyes. “Now that’s what I expected from the Crimson Death,” the boy whispered, his broken arm dangling in front of him and his free hand still holding the remnants of his mask to his face. “You almost got me there, twice. Impressive.” The boy bent over and had trouble breathing, but he was by no means defeated. As for Taoris… “What is this,” he wheezed, the blades piercing his throat forcing his voice to be scratchy and strained. “What did you do to me?” He assumed the sword and the knives were poisoned, but his body was basically immune to most poisons after almost twenty years of warfare in the underbelly of the world. If a poison ever did affect him, it was only after a long incubation period, and it never lasted for more than an hour at best. “A gift from a brother of mine,” the assassin muttered as he stood to his full height. Taoris’ knees buckled, and he involuntarily dropped his blade. “I didn’t want to resort to that, but you left me no choice. You were truly a formidable enemy… Defeating you will not be as easy as I thought it would be, I’ll give you that… Crimson Death.” The Zeta student lowered his dominant hand from his face, and now his mask started to crumble apart freely. Taoris fell to his knees and felt his vision start to blur. Whatever poison or tranquilizer had been used was powerful, many times stronger than anything he had ever encountered in his life. ‘Just who is this enemy? How did they move like that?’ He wanted to speak, to say anything, but his mouth had started to pool with blood; even without the blood, he was quickly losing control of all motor functions, and just keeping his eyes open was arduous. “Don’t worry, that poison isn’t lethal… not for you, at least. When you wake up, forget any of this ever happened… Just know that I will be the one to kill you,” the assassin said as he walked forward, his mask entirely fallen to the ground by now. With the last of his strength, Taoris cursed himself and the enemy as his eyes faded shut, mere seconds before he could have gotten a glimpse of the Zeta student’s face. “Dream of me,” the assassin said as Taoris faded into darkness, “and know that the snake has come to devour its tail.” ***** “Is that… It can’t be. Troyard – Is that…?” A sleepy-eyed guard in a pressed Mortisian uniform opened his eyes and looked over to his friend, who stood beside him and looked off towards the harbor with bulging eyes. “Whazat, Inah? Who’s there?” The blond royal guard yawned nonchalantly. “Damn it, Troyard, look! It is her… Dear God! Troyard, do you know what this means? She’s… She’s alive!” Finally the yawning guard rubbed the crust from his eyes, only to look at the road leading up to the golden palace gates – and he saw his princess. “L-Lady Nolstuvainia?! Where have you been? What are you doing here?” Despite the surprise of both, the two door guards could do nothing but stand like statues, frozen in their shock. Vainia walked right up the guards with a hard, focused face. Darks bags rested under her eyes from a sleepless night, and she wore a nondescript cloak around her shoulders that hid most of her clothing. She wore no crown and her hair was unkempt, but every guard in the royal palace of Grainis would have recognized her from miles away. Almost all of them idolized her, after all. To the people of Mortis, Vainia was the heralded princess of legend whose rule would bring about boundless prosperity – until she had disappeared four years ago, that is. Most of Mortis mourned for the princess as if she was gone forever… but here she was, waltzing up to her home palace after years away. “Father and mother are still away, yes?” Vainia walked up to the guards and looked up to them, completely ignoring their inquiries. The two were too frayed to move, let alone answer her questions, so Vainia nodded and walked right past them into the open golden gate. Despite her small stature, she had a long rushed stride. Immediately inside the expansive foyer of the palace she met the royal herald, who had been standing at a sterner attention than the two gate guards. Once Vainia wlaked in, he looked over at her and froze as well, his face quickly losing all color. Vainia looked around the foyer, nodding at its familiarity, before looking over to the middle-aged herald in a sharp black tuxedo. “Good evening, Dreeves. I take it my father and mother are still away?” The herald gulped and forced himself to close his eyes, though he could not keep his eyes from bulging out of their sockets. “Er – yes, of course, Lady Nolstuvainia, on their political summit, but… Your Highness, that is… If I may ask, you’re alive! That is, I mean, where have you…?” “You may not ask, Dreeves. Thank you.” She turned and sped off towards the back of the foyer. She frowned in irritation as Dreeves followed her, walking quickly to keep up with her purposeful stride. “You’ve grown your beard out, I see,” she said with a curt glance behind her to observe the herald. “Observant as always, Lady Noltuvainia, but…” “Where is Chancellor Liteus? His study, I assume?” The princess briskly walked up one of the grand staircases bordering both sides of the wide foyer, her hand lightly trailing the dusty railing of the golden stairs. Still Dreeves followed, though his hasty pace slowed a bit as he ascended the stairs. She could tell that he had gained weight since she was last in the palace, as well. “He is actually in Your Grace the King’s library, my lady, but… You’re not thinking of meeting with him, are you? My lady, please listen – surely you’d like your presence announced, or even to see Asearya again…” Vainia stopped suddenly and turned, her cloak whirling about behind her. She looked down at Dreeves with a hard glare, her green eyes narrowed and glittering with agitation. “Has my absence dulled your discipline, Dreeves? Is this what the palace has amounted to now?” The herald stood proudly and sucked his gut in a bit when confronted with Vainia’s glare, but only withered and shrunk when she started to speak. When she finished, his knees buckled and he looked down to the golden steps beneath him, as well as his hard-sole pointed shoes. “N-no, my lady,” he stammered. “It’s just… Oh, the entire city will be abuzz with your return… and for your parents to know you’re still alive…” Vainia frowned and lifted her chin, allowing herself to look down further on the herald. “And did it ever occur to you that I do not want anyone to know I have returned…?” She spoke slowly and articulately, but her voice was so quiet and dripping with venom that each word stabbed into Dreeves, eventually sending him recoiling backwards onto a lower step. She looked down on him, oppressing him with her withering aura, before turning quickly and crossing her arms. “How is your grandson doing, Dreeves?” The herald gulped and resisted an urge to drop to his knees in supplication. Everyone who knew Vainia since her childhood knew that when the princess asked a seemingly mundane and random question, she was mere inches away from the edge – and what followed further irritation was always a stern lecture, or even a violent outburst. “Just fine, my lady. He’s six now, and looks just like his father. Built strong as a bull… Your Highness.” Vainia laughed joylessly. “Very good then. Let us pray he lives a long and healthy life. As for you, Dreeves… you understand my wishes now, don’t you? And how I wish for no one to hear of my return – not even Asearya?” He could resist no longer, and the herald dropped to a position of reverence. He bent his knees and bowed his head so deeply that his forehead lay on the step ahead of him. “Of course, Your Highness. May you go with glory.” “Thank you, Dreeves. I know I can always count on your loyalty.” The cloaked princess, now with a destination to her mission, walked straight forward from the door and briskly stepped up the golden spiral staircase. Her footsteps were light yet rushed; when she arrived at the third floor of the staircase, she stepped off onto the landing and started walking briskly down the bejeweled hallway of the royal palace. Now on the beautifully maintained stone tiles of the palace, Vainia’s battered hard sole dress shoes from the Zeta uniform made satisfying clicks as she walked. In response, as she walked past them, some of the gold plated doors in the hallway opened and various house staff members looked out into the hallway in curiosity. When they saw her, they all replied with surprise and ignorance; by now Vainia had pulled up her hood in order to safeguard her secrecy. At the end of the hallway, Vainia found what she was looking for and entered without hesitation. She walked inside the room and shut the door behind her within moments. The Chancellor was not immediately visible, but the study was a large and almost labyrinthine conglomeration of bookshelves, desks, and loose documents, so the studious stand-in for her parents was almost certainly somewhere. “Didn’t I tell you not to come back until I summoned you next, Reah? What kind of maid do you think you are?” The voice of the Chancellor rang in from the very back of the study, likely in reaction to the sound of the closing door. Vaina looked towards and started to the direction of the voice; after seconds of walking, she found Liteus. This library was one she had spent time in since she was a child, and by age ten she had memorized every book there. Finding Liteus was easy. He sat in a large and extravagant plush chair and scribbled furiously on a large wooden desk, his back to her and his head low over his work. “It was bad enough to be disrespected by Dreeves, but by you, Chancellor? I’m insulted,” Vainia said, humorlessly. The Chancellor jumped at her proximity and almost fell out of his chair when he realized who was speaking to him. He looked up from his work to Vainia with bulging eyes, surprise and fright painting over all his middle-aged features. “L-Lady Nolstuvainia? But… You’re…” The Chancellor usually wore bright clothes and lascivious robes, but apparently he was relaxing or studying now, and was outfitted in a simple blue bodysuit with a few sashes across his waist and crotch. In her absence, he had grown a few more wrinkles across his prodigious forehead, but besides that, not much of his vaguely middle-age appearance had changed. He looked as if he were trying not to wet himself. Vainia crossed her arms and leaned her weight to one leg. “It’s nice to see you too, Liteus, and I’m encouraged to see that you are diligently working in the absence of my parents to rule. You have my thanks.” The stand-in ruler, confused yet happily complimented, rubbed the back of his neck and nervously chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to discuss much with you, save for a simple demand I have.” The Chancellor looked over her for a second before looking at her in alarm. “What could you possibly want? Where have you been?! The King and Queen have been so horribly wounded by your absence, young woman!” The cloaked girl sighed and resisted rolling her eyes at the Chancellor. “I did not come here to be lectured, Liteus. I need something from you; no, from the nation.” The man did not seem to like hearing this, for he looked at her with even wider eyes. She vaguely wondered just how wide he could open them. “You disappear for four years and the first thing you do upon returning to your home, unannounced no less, is ask something of me? Of your country? Princess, have you lost your mind?” He seemed genuinely appalled. Vainia avoided eye contact and let out an unfitting smile as she bit her lip. “Anything done for me is done for Mortis,” she answered. Her talking had slowed, while the Chancellor had gradually been speaking faster at her in his frustration. “I really did not want this reunion to drag on for more than was necessary, Chancellor Liteus, especially when I have important business to attend to. Please cooperate with me. I wouldn’t want to make this more complicated than it has to be.” Liteus slammed his fist on his wooden desk and stood up. “You’re leaving me with no choice, Lady Nolstuvainia! How do you expect me to react? What should I do in this position?! We all thought you died!” “It is no fault of mine that my parents did not care about me enough to find me. I have not been hidden.” The Chancellor faltered, wounded. “Princess, you misunderstand your parents…” “No, Liteus, I think you misunderstand them. I see this world clearly, and I know what must be done for it. I will have what I need from my home.” He glared at her and she returned the gaze with an equal amount of fire in her heart. It was obvious that Vainia would not be backing down. The Chancellor sighed and rubbed at his temples with closed eyes. “What do you even want? How could we possibly help you with whatever insane task you’re going about now?” “I need ships. Six of them. The six strongest battleships we have.” The Chancellor just chuckled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me. Do I even want to know what you’re planning on doing with them? Where did you even get the idea that you could just come in and do this?” “Are you going to accept my request, or not?” Vainia spoke with a quiet and calm voice, but her expression betrayed how impatient she was growing. Liteus noticed this quite clearly. He tilted his head slightly and studied her with more of a bewildered, frazzled expression as he began to walk towards her. “What’s gotten into you? What happened to the innocent and strong-willed little girl who I used to enjoy seeing play around the courtyards? Are you even the same person anymore?” The Chancellor held out a hand, slowly and wistfully, to stroke Vainia’s hand. She shooed it away with her hand and turned away slightly. “That little girl grew up, took a look around, and saw the unjust world around her. So now she’s going to go out and make this world one of equality.” “You’re… You’re still on this foolish pipe dream? Don’t tell me this is why you left the country in the first place.” “Did you think I spent my life observing and suffering simply to stay in this palace for the rest of my life? It’d be a disservice to my country if I didn’t plan to do anything in this world.” “You really think eloping and stealing Mortis’ resources will solve anything, Lady Nolstuvainia?! All that will do is gather the enmity of the world, and all that will do is ruin us! Why would you not simply fix the problems in this country from within? The throne is yours! No one contests your rule!” “The problem isn’t Mortis. The problem is the world.” Vainia crossed her arms, and although she was much shorter than the middle-aged chancellor was, she looked at him as if she towered over him. Just like Dreeves, Liteus shriveled beneath her glare. “If you won’t give me what I need voluntarily, I’ll just take them, with my own authority. This is an order from Nolstuvainia Sestrum, valtiuv avn kvanriel,” she stated, using her native Refined High Mortisian – an exclusive royals-only language – to further emphasize her point. “Send word to the harbor that the six ships will mobilize immediately, and I will be accompanying the captain. Furthermore, no one is to know I came here, least of all my parents. Do you understand, Chancellor Liteus?” The two olive-skinned Mortisians stayed put in a strong battle of gazes for a long time before Liteus seemed to buckle beneath his own weight. He lowered his head, sighed, and deflated into his seat. “Of course, Your Highness. I will obey.” Vainia nodded with satisfaction before looking off into the window behind Liteus. Evening was looming, and the air was still and tentative. ***** When Taoris arrived in Shorekeep, he was shaking with rage. As expected, the mysterious Zeta assassin was missing when he awoke near the ruins of the cabin. Taoris had quickly judged from the movement of the sun in the air that he had only slept for two hours at most; that meant whatever poison administered to him would have been instantly lethal to most people. Both the poison and the assassin were dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than any foe Taoris had faced in a decade. He wanted nothing more than to fight them both at full strength – but this mission was more important. Even so, he could not help but seethe as he ran towards Shorekeep, straining his legs in order to arrive there before sunset. As he ran he did not focus on the surroundings as he usually did; instead, in his mind, he could only replay the details of his fight with the assassin. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that the Zeta student was many times more accomplished and formidable than he had initially thought. As night fell on the city of Shorekeep, Taoris slowed to a walk and approached the city with a deep, frustrated glare. Without any difficulty or interference, he simply walked into the city and started towards its center. The city was located on the sea, with its cliffs and a rocky coast surrounding any area of the metropolis not controlled by its official harbors. The largest building of the city – the government’s large complex, located on the tallest hill of the city and visible from every other part of it – lay overlooking a cliff, with the sea stretching out behind it. In a direct act of secretive defiance, the main building of Fifth Brine’s secondary headquarters lay in the center of the city, right down the main street of the city and in clear view of the complex. Taoris walked right into the deep innards of the city and right to Fifth Brine’s building. He remembered its location from the last conversation he had with Santus, when he had invited Taoris to spearhead the burgeoning complex, from fifteen years ago. Taoris had refused, but he had never forgotten the offer, or its details. The Crimson Death pushed open the door of the warehouse slowly, and he stood looming in the doorway. The door had been locked; Taoris had picked it within seconds, and none of the men standing inside had noticed. The foyer of the warehouse looked relatively normal, with various men sitting around smoking or nonchalantly sitting at a bar and surrounding tables. As Taoris entered, all of them looked to him before standing and brandishing hidden weapons. The quiet buzz of the room’s chatter instantly hushed to a tense, violent silence. Taoris smiled and let himself be enveloped with a crushing aura of bloodlust and power. “Go ahead. Attack me.” None of the men moved. Taoris’ smile dropped, and he walked towards the back of the warehouse with his hands leisurely placed in his pockets. “Damn. I really wanted to empty this room out.” Just as leisurely, he walked into the room of this branch’s commander, completely unopposed. The bug-eyed man loked up to Taoris with ignorance for a moment before freezing. The red-haired man did not speak until he slowly closed the door to the head office behind him. The two men looked each other right in the eyes. “Fiery red hair... An oppressive aura... Cold, merciless eyes... You’re… You’re the Crimson Death, aren’t you?” “Indeed. I’m taking over this organization now.” “Wh… what? I’ve heard about you from Lord Santus, and… he said you would never join. He said you were very clear about that. And also about…” The man gulped and looked down, no longer able to keep his eyes on Taoris’ fearsome face. “He mentioned your… destructive tendencies.” The Crimson Death smiled. “What’s your name?” “Kaisain. Kaisain Kohh. I’ve led the Shorekeep office of Fifth Brine for ten years now.” “Santus is dead, Kaisain.” The leader froze. “…What? No… No, that’s impossible. The appointment…” “The appointment operation was a success. I’m sure he told you about the plan to stop the appointment of the next Inusian governor, but you probably didn’t get word of the fine details. To make a long story short, Santus died, as did the governor, every official in Phenicks, and half the city’s population. The only survivor is my queen and the newest leader of Fifth Brine – Vainia Sestrum. I am here to prepare for her arrival here, and the first step is for me to take control of this division for her.” Kaisain Kohh, balding with only faint wifts of curly black hair above his ears, looked down at his hands with his natural large eyes. He started to shake. “I don’t believe you. How can I trust that you’re telling the truth?” Taoris shrugged. “You can’t. I couldn’t care less if you do. Your only options are to give me control of this division and follow my orders until the queen arrives, or refuse and die. Either way, this division is mine now.” Kohh shivered and started to sweat. While he could not have been sure about whether Taoris told the truth about Phenicks and Santus, he knew that the man would keep his word when it came to murder. “It… it makes sense, I suppose. If there were a new leader of Fifth Brine, one unknown to the rest of the group, it would be imperative for them to acquire the loyalty of the Shorekeep division as soon as possible. But… Santus… This wasn’t in his plan at all…” “Santus’ plan was weak. Only Vainia has the power and the hatred needed to truly change this world.” Without noticing it, Taoris’ mouth curled into a grim and confident smile, and his eyes narrowed. “I will make sure of it.” If Kohh could have hidden inside his desk, now he would have retreated to it without a moment of hesitation. “What do you plan to do now? What is Fifth Brine going to do now…? If Phenicks has been wounded so…” “As I said, I’m going to take control of this division and mandate that every operative swears loyalty to the queen. If they do not, I will kill them. Then the survivors will start preparing for her arrival. Weapons, explosives, and battle plans… all of them are necessary. When the survivors of Phenicks arrive, I want this city to collapse. The queen will handle the coasts; the survivors will take on the city from the outside; this division is to riot from within. We will take this city under siege.” The middle-aged leader of the Shorekeep division thoughtfully scratched at his fading beard and looked up to Taoris thoughtfully. “I… I suppose that works. In fact, it sounds like the perfect plan… but we have no ships. And just how large is this Phenicks army? How did Santus manage to amass an army within ten days and not mention it at all…?” “The army isn’t his, nor are the ships. Vainia provided them all. I told you, didn’t I? Did you think I would do all of this for an unworthy queen?” “N-no… I mean…” “I’ve told you the plan, so all that remains is your choice. Will you submit or not?” Taoris asked the question mechanically and without an iota of emotion – he was simply stating facts. But to Kohh, the casual question was a matter of his actual life or death. He sat in his desk, shaking and sweating profusely, before he finally swallowed and looked up to the Crimson Death with quivering lips. “For Lord Santus… I will submit. The division is yours, so that the city will be ours.” Taoris clenched his jaw and slightly removed his hands from his pockets. The dark aura of tension in the room multiplied, and Kaisain froze. “I thought I said you must swear your loyalty to the queen. Santus is dead. Because you knew him, I will give you one more chance to answer me. That is all. Don’t make me repeat myself.” “I… Yes, of course, my lord. I… I submit to Queen Vainia.” Kohh stood up from his desk and bent to his knees at its side. Still shaking, he lowered himself in a bow and let his forehead rest on the hard wood floor. “We of Fifth Brine will cooperate.” Taoris smiled and let himself be relaxed once again. “Good choice. Get up. Your first order of business is to have half the available forces start gathering and mining for as much black seastone as you can get. I want them to work without rest. I don’t care if they drop dead.” “Yes, my lord. Of course. But… may I ask why?” “I’ve decided that Fifth Brine will be relocating its headquarters. I think the main government complex will be the perfect location for a new castle in the name of Queen Vainia.” “But… the place is occupied. Shall I organize a group of soldiers to infiltrate and clear it out?” Kohh gulped. “Such an operation will be dangerous and extremely risky… There will be plenty of casualties…” “No, there won’t be a single casualty, and I don’t want a single soldier to go there yet.” Taoris grinned; his smile was not unlike that of a beast’s descending onto long-awaited sleeping prey. “I will clear the building out myself.” ...End of Part Twenty-Three. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page ->